


Only Like This

by Deeranger



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Biting, Dark, Dean Winchester is Obsessed with Sam Winchester, First Kiss, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Neck Kissing, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Kissing, Obsessive Behavior, Obsessive Dean Winchester, One Shot, Pining, Poor Sam Winchester, Sleep Groping, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr: spnkinkbingo, Unrequited Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 13:18:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19377511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deeranger/pseuds/Deeranger
Summary: What will Dean do when his love for Sam is more than just brotherly - and too overwhelming to resist completely?





	Only Like This

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this anon Tumblr prompt in my ask box on Tumblr:
> 
> "I'm thinking Drugged!Sam (incest of course) and Dean laying claiming bites over his shoulders and neck. With a bit of nipple play. No fucking. You must not fuck the Sammy."

 

 

 

The buttons came undone easier than Dean would have thought, and he slowly worked his way downwards, popping one after the other with nimble fingers that would undoubtedly shake if he lost his concentration. The soft flannel shirt slowly but surely gave way beneath his fingertips, moving aside as a curtain in a theater would before a fancy show, inch by inch revealing tanned skin.   

 

”What’re you… What’re you doin’?” Sam slurred as he sat there, slumped in the heavy recliner chair in the motel room. Dean didn’t respond. Instead he opened the last button on his brother’s shirt, lightly flicking its sides apart to reveal the dips and curves of muscle underneath. Sagging in the chair Sam managed to knit his eyebrows together just a tiny bit as confusion washed through him, but no matter how hard he tried to form a coherent protest his words seemed to fail him somehow.

 

“D-Dean…?” he managed to sigh instead, head lolling back onto the backrest of the chair with the flowery upholstery. His mind was swimming and the whole room seemed to sail and wobble and do strange barrel rolls as he sat there, his limbs sluggish and unwilling to move the way his mind instructed them to.

 

“Ssh, Sammy, it’s alright,” Dean’s gravelly voice said somewhere very close to his face. But to be honest Sam couldn’t tell exactly where his brother was or what his hands were doing – he could only feel the warm puffs of air on his cheek and some feather light touches on his abdomen. Dizzy he tried to look down to follow the movement of the hands, but he found that he couldn’t lift his head from its resting position on the soft backrest.

 

“Why’re you… What’s going on?” he heard himself ask and his brows furrowed some more by the sound of his own voice. It sounded alien somehow. Slurred and hoarse as if he had been binge-drinking liquor all night. But he hadn’t.

 

“Just relax, okay? Everything’s alright, I’m just… I’m just getting these off,” Dean’s voice said, and Sam could feel calloused fingers popping open the button on his jeans and tugging on his zipper. Confusion flooded his mind as the rough digits started to pull at the belt loops in a way so gentle that he didn’t at all recognize his brother for a second or two. As the denim dragged against his skin the world seemed to turn inside out and back again, and before he knew it his jeans were pulled down over his hips to expose his underwear.

 

“Okay…” Sam heard himself say, almost as if on autopilot. His voice was so low that he doubted if Dean could even hear him though.

 

“I just gotta…” Dean said, but trailed off, and Sam felt his breath fanning across his face once more. Trying to open his eyes properly he narrowed them ever so slightly in a poor attempt to get them to focus – but he failed miserably. What had to be his brother’s face just looked like one big blob of blurry color even though it was only an inch away. Why was he so close? Sam wanted to stiffen, wanted to pull back, but the heavy chair didn’t budge and neither did his body. Instead Dean’s face came closer - and suddenly he felt hands cupping his face. Thumbs were trailing along his jaw line, grazing the stubble there, and Sam let out a small, guttural sound that he wasn’t even able to interpret himself.

 

“God, Sam…” Dean whispered, his breath coming out in fast and almost ragged exhales. Hazed and beyond confused all Sam could focus on was trying to formulate some sort of sentence to ask his brother why he was all up in his face like this – but his focus was instantly shattered into a thousand tiny splinters when he felt soft lips touching his own. Before he had the chance to properly register what was happening, Sam tried to whip his head to the side – only it became nothing more than a small twitch. Whatever he had been drinking it had to be potent, because he couldn’t move. He couldn’t move at all. And the mouth pressing against him became more insistent, a wet tongue snaking out and slipping in between his lips. He didn’t even realize that they had been parted – but the invading flesh quickly began exploring his mouth, lapping at it and swirling around in there.

 

“Mmggh…!” he heard himself mumble into his brother’s mouth, shock trying to override the paralysis currently dulling his mind to the point where he wasn’t even sure where he was or who was kissing him. But nothing seemed to happen, and the room just seemed to swirl around faster along with the blurry face in front of him.

 

“Fuck…” his brother’s voice said, and teeth nipped and tugged at his lower lip as the mouth pulled back a little. A string of saliva connected them, and all Sam could muster was a small grunt as pain flared up when his lip was finally released with a wet sound. Disoriented he tried to lift up his hands to push Dean back – but his limbs weren’t cooperating. Instead they just rested heavily on the armrests, immobile.

 

“You taste even better than I imagined,” Dean whispered, a little out of breath.

 

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he gasped, and suddenly he dipped his head down, mouth ghosting down the side of Sam’s neck. As his breath hit the feverishly warm skin there, Sam wanted to flinch away, goose bumps forming in a matter of seconds and spreading all the way down to his chest.  

 

“Wh-Wha—“

 

“Ssh, be quiet. Just let me have this!” Dean said, cutting his little brother off. Something that sounded close to desperation laced his voice, and it was a whole new kind of emotion that Sam had never heard before. It sounded unfamiliar and strangely hungry somehow. Needy.  And before he knew it his brother was peppering his neck with sloppy kisses, nipping and licking wherever he had access.

 

A grunt escaped Sam at the sensation, and he wanted to twist away from the touch, wanted to protest – but before he could even try, he forgot what he intended to do in the first place. Every single thought seemed to get chopped up into tiny bits and scattered everywhere, and he couldn’t seem to pick up the pieces. The entire room was sailing before his eyes, and his limbs felt like they were made out of wrought iron. Heavy and completely useless.

 

“So fucking hot, Sammy,” Dean moaned into the crook of his neck - and suddenly a sharp sting of pain rippled through him when teeth dug into his skin hard enough to leave a red indentation deep enough to almost draw blood. A surprised hiss escaped Sam, and he whipped his head to the side – at least he thought that he did, but he quickly realized that it was still just lolling against the soft backrest passively.

 

“You’re mine. You know that, right?” Dean breathed against his neck heavily, a hand slipping under the open shirt and onto his shoulder.

 

“Mine…!” he said and suddenly he yanked at the flannel a little harder than what was necessary, exposing some more of the tanned skin hiding underneath the fabric. Blinking rapidly to try to clear his foggy vision Sam winced when a sudden pain flared up once more as his brother buried his teeth in his shoulder in a claiming bite.

 

“Oww…” he heard himself say under his breath. Even his voice sounded sluggish by now, his dazed brain informed him. Swallowing thickly he realized that his mouth was as dry as sandpaper and that his eyelids were feeling increasingly heavy. Was he falling asleep? He couldn’t be. Or maybe all of this was just a bad dream after all?

 

“You’ll always be mine, Sam,” Dean said, and a set of fingers was trailing down his chest, curiously following every line and every contour of muscle on the way.

 

“Always have been,” he added, and Sam thought he heard the bass in his brother’s voice drop even deeper.

 

“And I’ll keep reminding you of that. I just wish you’d remember,” Dean said, sounding almost blameful. Confused Sam wanted to shake his head – he didn’t really know at what – but suddenly the set of fingers found his nipple and twisted it lightly. Instantly Sam sucked in a breath of air, chills rolling down his spine when the sensitive flesh was pinched and rolled between the rough digits.

 

“But you won’t,” Dean said. Sam thought he picked up on something close to sadness in his voice, but he couldn’t tell. At this point he couldn’t really make sense of anything, his head spinning and his sleepiness growing more intense by the minute.

 

“I wish I could just tell you. But I can’t. I can only have you like this…” Dean murmured in his ear, and a low noise escaped Sam when the fingers finally let go of his swollen nipple – only to stuff themselves in between their bodies. Only now did he realize that his older brother was actually sitting on top of him in the chair. A gasp wanted to spill from Sam’s lips, but it got caught somewhere in his throat when a warm hand palmed him through his exposed underwear.

 

“But I’ll take you any way I can have you,” his brother whispered, planting his knees a little more solidly on each side of Sam’s hips. As the fingers gently stroked him through the slightly damp cotton of his briefs, he felt how his eyes began to close. He didn’t want them to – he needed to stay awake, needed to stay just somewhat aware. But apparently the message his brain was sending his body never arrived, because suddenly his eyes had closed anyway.

 

“That’s right. Sleep. It’s okay, baby,” Dean said softly, and he rubbed his fingertips in small circles on the cotton in an almost soothing manner, watching as Sam’s body started to sag in even more in the chair, losing the battle against the overwhelming urge to fall asleep.

 

“I love you, Sammy,” he said, placing a kiss on his little brother’s forehead.

 

  


End file.
